11 Kids and Counting: The Lost Tapes
by Flagg1991
Summary: Follow-up special on the Louds, a large Christian family with many dark secrets. See the footage deemed too explicit for TV. Cover by Raganoxer.
1. Still Counting

**Welcome, one and all, to the sequel to the critically acclaimed story** _ **11 Kids and Counting**_ **, where you will see footage so shocking that I am kind of ashamed to have written it. This is not a oneshot but it's not really a full story either. All told it's just over 18,000 words, which makes it far shorter than most of my stuff but much longer than the first. It will be broken into three chapters.**

 **I want to state upfront that I am not attacking Christians or Christianity. I, myself, am an agnostic, but I was raised in a Christian environment and to this day am sympathetic to Christian beliefs. I am attacking hypocrisy, first and foremost, and Christianity, just like any other organized religion (or institution in general) is** _ **teeming**_ **with it.**

 **In this story, I also make fun of the media, and at one point Lisa goes on an epic rant about society that I think you all may enjoy.**

 **Anyway, I hope you enjoy the story. - Flagg1991.**

* * *

 _ **Counting all the assholes in the room**_

 _ **Well I'm definitely not alone, well I'm not alone**_

 _ **You're a liar, you're a cheater, you're fool**_

 _ **Well that's just like me and I know you too**_

 **\- Volbeat ( _Still Counting,_ 2008)**

* * *

 **Lyrics to** _ **Love at First Feel**_ **by AC/DC (1976)**

Dramatic music plays as a man emerges from the shadows of a soundstage made to resemble a talk show set. He wears a suit and sunglasses, his hair slicked back and his face heart-stoppingly handsome. He flashes a winning smile. "Hi, I'm Flagg1991 for _A Present Event_. Eight months ago, right here, you saw the Loud family of Royal Woods, Michigan. What you did _not_ see is the footage deemed too explicit for TV."

He turned to another camera. "But you will tonight on _11 Kids and Counting: The Lost Tapes_. Viewer discretion is advised."

Light, airy piano music plays as a van pulls into the parking lot of a grocery store. It slides into a spot, stops, and Rita Loud gets out of the driver seat, stumbling slightly and laughing. "I always forget how big that step is," she slurs into the camera. "Alright, kids."

The side door opens and all of the Loud children spill out, Lori first and Lincoln last; he wears an orange polo shirt tucked neatly into tan slacks. Lori wears a blue dress that stops just above her knees. They look as though they've just come from church even though it's Monday afternoon.

Rita sitting in front of a blue backdrop. RITA LOUD - 41 says a text box across the bottom of the screen. Her eyes are bleary and unfocused, and when she speaks, her voice is thick and slurred. "When you got as many kids as _I_ do, grocery shopping can be a _little_ difficult." She holds her thumb and forefinger an inch apart.

In the store, Rita pushes a cart down an aisle. Lola, Lana, and Lisa flank either side, Lily sitting in the back and kicking her legs. Lola spots something on one of the shelves, gasps, and rushes over. "Can we get _this?"_ she asks, holding up a pack of cookies.

"No, we have cookies at home."

Moments later, Leni comes up holding a bag of chips. "Hey, Mom, can we get this?"

"No, that's junk."

At the end of the aisle, Lynn Jr. streaks by pushing a cart, Luna standing in it with bent knees and arms out like a woman surfing. "Rock and roll!" she screams; she makes the devil horns with both hands and sticks her tongue out. Rita sighs and casts a longing glance at the liquor cooler.

"I want red juice," Lola says.

" _I_ want blue juice," Lana says.

"Red."

"Blue."

Lola shoves her sister, and Lana shoves her back, knocking her into a shelf that collapses; bread, bagels, and buns rain down onto her and the floor. Rita tenses...then keeps going, disappearing around the corner while Lola blinks and rights her crown.

LANA - 6. "Lola's a bitch." The little girl sits sullenly in front of the backdrop, her arms crossed and a sulky expression on her face. "She's obsessed with the way she looks. It's sinful."

The scene cuts to Lola walking down an aisle. "A girl has to look her best," she says into the camera. "I like attention, especially from boys, and since I can't get it elsewhere, I get it from my brother."

Lincoln is standing at a candy display. As she passes behind him, she grins alluringly and bats her eyelashes. "Hi, Lincy."

He looks over his shoulder, his eyes flicking up and down her body, and nods. "Hey, Lola. You look nice today."

Lola's grin widens. "Thank you, Lincy."

"He knows _just_ what to say," Lola says as the camera follows her into the next aisle over, where Lucy has a little girl in pigtails cornered next to a cardboard display of batteries. The little girl's face is white and her eyes are wide with terror.

"You're a harlot," Lucy snarls, "and harlots go to _hell_." She starts to move in but Lola passes and she goes rigid, her head whipping toward the camera. "I-I was just witnessing," she says, "that's all." The little girl brushes past Lucy and runs, the sound of her hysterical sobbing trailing behind her.

Backdrop. LUCY - 8. "The sin I see on a daily basis enrages me. Sometimes it's a struggle to keep from going full Old Testament."

A school hallway, Lucy walking with her books pressed to her chest. Kids watch her warily, a few of them scattering to get out of her way. A group of girls in short shorts and tight tank tops cluster around a locker, talking and laughing. When they see Lucy, they fall completely silent and hurriedly look away, fear in their eyes. The corners of Lucy's mouth twitch up in a demonic smile.

 _Three days a week, Lucy and her younger sisters attend a children's Bible study at the Methodist church. Lucy's unique outlook puts her at odds with her peers._

Kids sit around a circular table with Bibles open in front of them. Lucy sits rigid, her hands folded in her lap. A woman in a denim dress stands over a little girl reading a verse about love and acceptance. Before she can finish, Lucy butts in. "You're misinterpreting it. Intentionally." The woman and the little girl both look at her. "You're a liar. Here's a Bible verse for you. Revelation 21:8. _But the cowardly, the unbelieving, the vile, the murderers, the sexually immoral, those who practice magic arts, the idolaters and all liars—they will be consigned to the fiery lake of burning sulfur. This is the second death."_

The woman sits in front of the backdrop now. AGNES JOHNSON, SUNDAY SCHOOL TEACHER. "Lucy frightens the other children, and frankly, she frightens me as well. I've spoken to her parents but they don't seem to think there's a problem." She smiles tightly.

LYNN SR. - 43. "Lucy's a good girl," he says, "she might be a little overzealous, but that's fine, there's nothing wrong." His face is hard, his voice challenging.

Hidden camera footage shows Lucy standing at Lily's crib in the middle of the night, her arms lank at her sides and her head slightly bowed. Lily is curled up on her side with her thumb in her mouth, sleeping peacefully and innocently. "You're a sinner," Lucy says lowly, "and one day I will smite thee."

Back at the store, the camera follows Luna as she makes her way past the coolers along the back wall, passing meats, cheeses, and rows of milk. "I asked Sam out today," she says, "and she said yes." A big smile spreads across her face. "Rockin, huh?" Up ahead, Leni is rummaging through a shelf of yogurt, her hip propping the door open. "I'm _really_ stoked. We're going to the movies later; I'm totally gonna finger her. Then I'm gonna come home and rub it all over Dad's shit. _Eeee, gay woman juice_."

Elsewhere, Lincoln moseyes down an aisle with his hands in his pockets, stopping before a rack of condoms. Lola pokes her head around the corner, sees him, and grins evilly. Acting casual, she comes up behind him and leans in. "What'cha lookin' at, Lincy?"

Lincoln jumps a little. "N-Nothing," he stammers.

Lola leans in and squints. "It doesn't _look_ like nothing. It looks like dirty stuff."

Backdrop. LINCOLN - 11. "It pains me to see prophylactics. It's kind of a...trigger. I believe sex and love are inextricably linked, and should only be had between two people within the holy union of marriage. Condoms and other forms of birth control promote cheap encounters and are designed, by their very nature, to impede that which is natural and good."

In the store, Lincoln looks suspiciously around, then grabs a pack of Trojans and tucks them under his shirt. He rushes away from the scene of the crime and smiles to himself. He rounds a corner and stops when he sees his mother slipping a bottle of vodka into the cart and covering it with a large package of chicken. She turns, and their eyes lock. For a moment, nothing happens, then she takes a deep breath. "Don't tell anyone."

"Mom," he says seriously, "you really shouldn't be drinking." He goes over, his steps slow, deliberate, lending him a cold, calculating appearance. "It's sinful."

Rita's eyes harden. She reaches into her purse, pulls out a ten dollar bills, and holds it out. Lincoln hesitates, then takes it and shoves it into his pocket. "Bottoms up," he says and walks away.

Outside, he helps her load grocery bags into the back of the van. When they are finished, she slams the door. "Alright, that's that," she says in a cheery voice that sounds painfully artificial; she glances over her shoulder at the camera and smiles.

Lynn Sr. in front of the backdrop. "Cooking for so many people can be challenging. Every night I'm reminded of the miracle of the five loaves and two fish." He laughs.

In the kitchen, Lynn stands in front of the stove in a pink apron. Lana walks past, following Charles the dog. "Tonight I'm making my famous beans and franks," Lynn says, "it's always a hit at church potlucks."

He continues speaking as the camera zooms in toward the living room: Lynn Jr. sits on the edge of the couch, her elbows propped on her knees and her face in her hands. Lincoln enters and sits next to her, his hand going to her back. She turns her head and he smiles. "I'm sorry about last night," he says, his voice barely audible over his father's yammering. "I think we should pray."

Lynn nods after a moment. Taking her hand, Lincoln gets to his feet and leads her up the stairs, an evil smile on his face.

LYNN JR. - 13. Her brow is furrowed. "Of course I know what Proverbs 26:11 says. _As a dog returns to its vomit, so fools repeat their folly."_ She laughs nervously. "Why would you bring that up?"

Hidden camera footage: Lynn and Lincoln kneeling side-by-side next to Lincoln's bed, their elbows resting on the mattress and their hands folded. Lynn's head is bowed and her lips move silently; Lincoln's head is turned, his predatory eyes boring into her. She begins to cry softly, and he lays his hand on her back; she stiffens under his touch. "I-I don't know what came over me," she sobs, "I'm so sorry, Linc. We're going to hell and it's my fault."

Lincoln scoots away from the bed and gets behind her; her slips his hands into her hair and presses his body against hers. "I don't care about that...call me wicked, but I want you again."

"I want you too," she moans in misery.

He kisses the nape of her neck. "Then don't fight it. We're already damned. Might as well enjoy the ride."

In the kitchen, Lynn Sr. laughs. "It's my father's recipe, actually. He loved cooking out, and every time he did, he'd make beans and franks for a side. It's comfort food for me, and inexpensive."

Lynn kneels on her hands and knees in the middle of Lincoln's bed, her butt thrust up and her shorts around her ankles. Her moist, pink center is spread and her head is bowed, her thick brown hair hanging in her face. Lincoln puts his hands on her hips and prods her opening with the purple tinged head of his dick. "I-I want it fast," she says.

Gripping her, he slams his dick deep into her body, and she jumps.

RITA - 41. Her eyes are bloodshot and her hair sticks out. "Feeding the family," she slurs, "takes a _loooooot_ of...patience." Her words come slow, cumbersome. "The kids bitch and complain every night. _We don't want beans and franks._ Booo-hooo-hooo."

"How much have you had to drink today, Rita?" a voice asks off screen.

Rita squints against the glare of the lights. "I haven't had anything to drink," she says thickly, "why would you even...why would you even _say_ I did that?"

"Because you're obviously drunk."

Rita purses her lips. "I am _not_ drunk," she says with a slow, clumsy shake of the head. "Actually," she says and holds up a finger, "I am." She nods with great severity. "Drunk on Scripture."

Lincoln ruts roughly into his sister, his hips flying back and forth. She starts to shudder as her orgasm hits, and with a groan, Lincoln pulls out and shoots hot jizz onto her back; it lands on her shirt and soaks into the fabric.

When Lucy speaks from the doorway, they both startle. "If you weren't going to hell before, you are now."

Lincoln whips around, his face contorting in demonic rage. "What the fuck, don't you knock?"

"I did," Lucy replies, "you didn't answer and I heard moaning. I thought you were dying and I wanted to watch. Dinner's ready."

LUNA - 15. She slouches in a chair with her arms crossed. "After I came out, Mom and Dad talked to me, gave me that 'hate the sin, love the sinner' crap. Kind of an insult, you know? Like...the way I feel for Sam is a _sin?"_ She looks around as if in confusion. "Fuck that. While they're having their little family dinner, pretending Mom isn't drunk as a skunk and Dad doesn't pick up women online, _I'm_ going to the movies with Sam."

The camera follows Sam and Luna as they make their way down the sidewalk. Sam is dressed in red jeans and a denim jacket over a white tank top, and Luna in a purple skirt and shirt. Sam giggles at something Luna says, and Luna gives the camera a sidelong glance. _Oh yeah,_ it seemed to say, _I'm_ so _gonna score._

SAM - 15. Sam sits nervously in front of the backdrop. "Uh, I know her family's really religious...and that's fine, I don't have anything against religion. She's really sweet and I already like her alot." She covers her face with her hands and giggles. "This is really embarrassing, can you cut this from the show, please?"

Luna and Sam stand in a line outside a movie theater. "Which one do you wanna see?" Luna asks.

"Um, I don't really care," Sam says, "anything's fine with me."

"Yeah?" Luna grins. "What about _12 Roses?_ It's a romance." She speaks the last three words in a singong voice, her eyes half-lidding.

Sam blushes and nods. "Okay, yeah, I'm down."

Luna in front of the backdrop, a mischievous smile on her face. "Not down like _I'm_ gonna be." She makes a V with the fore and middle finger of her right hand, holds it to her mouth, and flicks her tongue out. She lifts her other arm over her head and spins it like a cowgirl with a lasso, her hips rocking back and forth.

 _Meanwhile, back at 1216 Franklin, dinner is underway._

The Louds sitting around the table. Lynn Jr. stares down at her plate in shame while Lincoln smiles smugly. Lola watches the latter with sultry eyes, her gaze sweeping up and down.

LOLA - 6. "What girl doesn't like to feel beautiful?" she asks with a shrug. "I do."

She slouches in her seat, and Lincoln lifts his head, his brow pinching in puzzlement. She smiles seductively and nods her head. Underneath the table, her toes brush the cuff of his pants up his calf and tickle his bare skin. He glances around the table, but no one is paying attention. He smirks and Lola bites her bottom lip.

LOLA - 6. "Sometimes it drives me crazy. Like...some people need drugs or cigarettes to get through the day, _I_ need attention. Daddy doesn't give me attention and Lincoln really doesn't either, but that's going to change." Her lips peel back from her teeth in a devious smile and fire fills her eyes. "Oh, that's going to change."

 _At the theater, things are going well for Sam and Luna_.

They sit next to one another in the back row, a tub of popcorn in Luna's lap. Sam's elbow is propped on the arm rest between hers and Luna's seat and her face rests in her hand. Luna glances at her.

LUNA - 15. "Should I...make a move?"

Luna looks undecided for a moment...then puts her arm around Sam's shoulder. Sam looks up at her, smiles, and leans closer. Luna's voice intones over the scene. "Oh, yeah, I am _smooth."_

 _Back at the Loud house, the kids are getting ready for bed, a routine that is just as complicated as any other in a family of thirteen_.

The girls stand before the bathroom sink in a big crowd. Luan brushes her teeth with the enthusiasm of a dead woman; Leni rubs cold cream into her face; Lori flosses; Lucy gurgles with mouthwash.

In her room, Lola sits at her vanity and brushes her hair, a hazy look in her eyes as she stares at her reflection. "You are _so_ beautiful," she says. Lana sits on her bed with an illustrated children's Bible open in her lap. She's not looking at _it,_ though, she's looking at her sister with an expression of mild distaste.

LANA - 6. She wears a simple bluish green nightdress and her red cap. "She gets on my nerves. I don't think wanting to look nice is a sin, but staring at yourself in the mirror and practically cumming _is_."

Lola runs the brush through her hair and turns slowly from one side to the other, her eyes never leaving the mirror. "Are you almost done?" Lana asks.

"Hmmm...no," Lola replies at length.

Lana rolls her eyes.

LOLA - 6. "Tomorrow, I'm going to start getting attention from my brother." She flashes a big, gap-tooth smile. "And I know just how to do it."

"How?" a voice asks.

"You'll see…"

 _The next day starts like any other. The kids all go through their morning routine; using the toilet, showering, and brushing their teeth. Two, however, are unaccounted for._

Standing in the hall, Lori looks curiously around, her hands on her hips. "Where are Lynn and Lincoln?"

Everyone shrugs and grumbles that they don't know. Lori scrunches her lips to the side in thought, then goes into the bathroom when Lola comes out; the little girl is wearing a very short pink dress that stops _well_ above her knees and stretches tightly across her chest, clinging to the budding nubs of her breasts. Lana clucks her tongue and Leni's brows furrow. "That's, like, not something you should wear."

LENI - 16. Her jaw is slack and her eyes are wide. "Like...we're not super modest, wearing denim dresses and stuff, but that is _totes_ ina - ina -" She touches her index finger to her chin and rolls her eyes up to the ceiling as she tries to remember the word she wants.

"Inappropriate?" a voice supplies.

Brightening, Leni nods. "Yep! Like, you don't have to dress like an old woman, but don't dress like a hooker either."

"Don't you think your relationship with Lincoln is inappropriate?"

Leni blinks. "No."

Footage of Leni sitting on the floor in front of the couch, Lincoln on the couch with his legs on either side of her; he slowly rubs her shoulders, and the look on Leni's face is one of blissful rapture.

Back in front of the backdrop, Leni lifts her arm, palm facing up. "But that's a back rub. I give Lynn back rubs all the time after she plays football and gets sore."

LISA - 6. She sits in a chair with her arms crossed. "I suspect there is a subconscious sexual component to Leni's relationship with Lincoln. She doesn't realize it, but it is, indeed, there. Leni, I believe, is genuine in her faith and tries her best to live according to Scripture, but, if I may be blunt, she's dumb as a box of beakers."

"Do you know what happened between Lincoln and -?"

Lisa nods curtly. "Yes, I have cameras positioned around the house, I am quite aware of what happened between Lincoln and Luan and Lincoln and Lynn. If you want my opinion, Luan was more of a victim than a willing participant and Lynn was more of a willing participant than a victim, though each of them were both at the same time. In both cases, Lincoln was the aggressor. He is, to be blunt, a manipulative bastard, and our parents are too caught up in their own affairs - our father quite literally - to care."

Back in the hallway, Lincoln's door creeps open and Lynn's eyes appear in the crack. Sure that no one is looking (even though the camera is on her), she slips out and hurries to her room, tiptoeing; none of her siblings turn.

LUCY - 8. "I know where she was last night...earning herself a one way ticket to hell one thrust at a time." She grins, as though the thought of her sister going to hell is pleasing. "In Dante's Inferno, sexual sinners spend eternity in a giant swirling vortex. I hope Lynn doesn't eat before she dies or she'll pass forever and ever puking on herself." Here, Lucy actually giggles, a high, soulless sound.

In the hall, Lincoln comes out of his room in just his underwear. Lola, watching from her room like a trap door spider wating for prey, smils and comes out, cutting him off and taking his spot in line. Lincoln's eyes dart to her butt, the seat of the dress so tight against it you could see the outline of her butt crack. She looks over her shoulder, her gaze slowly travelling up Lincoln's body until it locks with his. Her lids lower seductively. "Hi, Lincy."

"Hi, Lola," he says with a grin.

They stare at each other with bated breath, then Lola turns away, her chin jutting haughtily out and her eyes batting. Lincoln's eyes go to her butt once more...and stay for a long time.

LINCOLN - 11. "Lola is...she craves attention." Lincoln nods as he speaks, his voice measured, his word choice careful. "Vanity _is_ a sin, but to her being paid attention to is what water is to you and I. Therefore, even though it might be wrong, I do my best to spend time with her and compliment her. 'Hi, Lola, I like your dress,' or 'your hair looks nice today, Lola.'" His smile is charming and bright, but does not touch his eyes.

Hidden camera footage reveals Lincoln on his stomach and trying to look under the bathroom door. The hiss of the shower and Lola's voice as she sings can clearly be heard. Frustrated, he slams his fist against the floor and gets to his feet: An erection pushes out the front of his pants.

In the kitchen, Lynn Sr. sets plates of eggs and bacon in front of each child. Rita is not present, and when Lana asks where she is, Lynn smles tightly. "She's ill," he says. When he reaches Lola, he frowns. "Lola, go upstairs and change please."

Lola twists her head around. "But, Daddy…"

"Now."

Sighing, Lola gets up and disappears into the living room, Lincoln pushing away from the table and leaning back to watch her go, his eyes twinkling with darkness and his teeth clamping his lower lip. He remembers the camera, starts, and lets out a nervous laugh. "Just making sure she was...going with God," he says.

 _The tension is thick at the table this morning; this is the first time Luna has joined her family for a meal since coming out as bisexual. Neither Lynn nor Rita speak to her._

LYNN AND RITA. They sit side-by-side looking tired and worn out. Rita's eyes are bleary and she sways slightly like a wobbling top. Lynn sighs. "We don't love Luna any less," he says haltingly. "You might not believe in hell, but we do, and Luna's...in danger of going there. We are obviously upset and...distraught, but we still love and support her. We're not going to disown her, we're not going to punish her, we're going to pray for her and do whatever else it takes to get her back on the right track."

Rita's head flops up and down. "We're good parents," she slurs, "and we love our kids."

"Yes we do," Lynn agrees.

"And there's _nothing_ wrong with them," Rita says, then slaps the air, "even if Lincoln and Lynn…"

Lynn turns his his. "Stop it," he says quietly yet firmly.

"Kids...do things…"

Lynn's eyes narrow. "Rita...stop."

She purses her lips and rolls her eyes drunkenly.

At the table, Luna glares down at her plate and eats sullenly. Lana glances at her, then quickly away.

LANA - 6. "I never knew someone who was gay before," she says, "she _looks_ normal."

Lola sits on Luna's other side in her customary pink dress and crown, pink gloves pulled up to her elbows and pearls around her neck. She divides her attention between her breakfast and Lincoln, who keeps stealing lustful glances at her.

LOLA - 6. She sits prim and proper in the chair, her head tilted back and her eyes staring down her nose. Her arms and legs are crossed. "When Lincoln looks at me, I have a funny feeling in my stomach. Like...fluttering." Her brow pinches and she lifts her gaze to the camera. "Is that normal?"

"No," a voice says pointedly.

Lisa skims the surface of her oatmeal with her spoon and spares her father a sidelong glance; he eats mechanically, without joy, his eyes distant and his face sallow. Across from her, Lucy eats the way she does everything else - coldly and dispassionately. Down the table, Luan stares into her food like a gypsy divining tea leaves and not liking what the future holds.

LUAN - 14. Luan sits with her hands folded in her lap and her gaze downcast. Her face is flushed from crying and unshed tears shimmer wetly in her eyes. She sniffs and wipes them away with the heel of her palm.

"You seem depressed lately," someone says off camera. Their voice is sugary with faux concern. It is obvious to anyone watching that this person doesn't give a shit about Luan Loud, they only care about drama and ratings.

Nodding, Luan sighs. "A little."

"Why's that, honey?"

Luan shrugs and continues to look at the backs of her hands as though they are the most interesting things in the world. "Confession is good for the soul, Luan," another voice says, this one female and just as fake as the first.

"It's nothing," she murmurs.

"Talk to us, Luan," the woman says, "let us in. We want to help you."

Luan draws a heavy sigh and looks up and to the right. "I...I did something really bad." Her lips begin to quiver and she blinks against a rush of tears; they streak down her cheeks. "I hurt Lincoln." She breaks down and begins to weep in silence, her shoulders shaking and her hand flying to her eyes. A fat woman with long, frizzy blonde hair and dressed in a stylish black pantsuit appears and kneels in front of the crying girl, her hand going tentatively to her knee.

"Cut the camera," she says, then turns and shakes her head. _Keep rolling,_ she mouths. She faces Luan again and pats her knee while making an _Awwwww_ sound that only an emotionally distressed girl of fourteen would mistake for genuine. "How did you hurt Lincoln, sweetie?"

Luan presses her hand to her face and fights to regain her composure, but sobs even harder. "You have to tell me what's the matter, honey," the woman says, her voice firm, "otherwise I can't help you."

"W-We had sex," Luan moans and hugs herself, "now we're both going to hell and it's my fault."

The woman smiles over her shoulder like a jackyl.

 _After breakfast, the Loud kids disperse and go their own ways, some to study their Bibles -_

Lori sitting in the middle of her bed, legs crossed, and staring down at a book in her lap, her elbow propped on her knee and her chin resting in her upturned palm.

 _\- and others to less savory activities._

Luna sits on her window sill, facing into the room. "I'm meeting Sam at the park. Mom and Dad said I had to stay in here and read the Bible." She laughs. " _That's_ not gonna happen." She turns, opens it, and swings one leg over the edge, ducking under the sash. "Cover for me," she says and winks at the camera.

Across the hall, Lincoln is seemingly on his way to the bathroom, his hands shoved into his pockets. His steps are slow, however, and aimless. He passes Lola's room and glances in, sees only Lana sitting on her bed and reading, and moseys back to his room, stepping heavily from one foot to the other in an ambling side-to-side fashion. He passes Luan's room and turns his head. She kneels next to her bed with her hands folded in front of her. She is crying again, her head bowed and the soft sounds of her spiritual misery drifting faintly into the hall.

Lincoln stops...and sneers.

LINCOLN - 11. He nods his head sadly, his lips a bloodless line. "Luan _does_ seem upset recently." He touches his heart. "It tears me up to see such a beautiful soul in turmoil, but I believe it's best to try and let my siblings work out their problems with God before intervening."

Still sneering, he stalks over and leans into Luan's room. When he speaks, she jumps. "If you're going to cry crocodile tears over your sins, at least shut the door so I don't have to look at you."

She turns her red, heartbroken face to him, her eyes clouded with pain, and tries to speak, perhaps to once again seek his forgiveness and beg his love, but he clicks his tongue in disgust. "You make me _sick_."

With that, he slams the door, and, alone, Luan begins to weep again, falling to her side and curling up in a ball.

LINCOLN - 11. His eyes are soft with concern. "Maybe I should talk to her."

The next scene is from the shaky POV of a handheld camcorder: A cracked sidewalk, moving feet, and the sound of heavy breathing. It jerks upwards, and across the street, Luna goes up a set of concrete steps leading to the front door of a small brick house with bay windows; windchimes tinke in the breeze and an American flag stirs. Luna knocks, steps back, and waits a minute; the door opens, Sam appears...and grins. Music starts to play over the footage, wavering guitar with a fifties flair.

 _They told me it was disgustin'_

 _They told me it was a sin_

 _They saw me knocking on your front door_

 _Saw me smile when you let me in_

Sam steps aside, and Luan brushes past; before Sam closes the door, her eyes flick to Luna's butt, and she bites her bottom lip.

 _You and me baby we'ez all alone_

 _Let's get something goin'_

 _While your mum and dad ain't home_

The next shot is of a window, white velor blinds. Through the slats, a room: Posters on the walls, a radio on a nightstand, a bed, Sam flat on her back with her pants around her ankles and Luna's head between her legs. Sam's head is thrown back and her hips gyrate against the Loud girl's face; soft moans and breathy exhalations escape her bobbing throat.

LUNA - 15. She wears a shit-eating grin. "Yeah...we totally ate each other out, man, it was _awesome_."

Sam runs her fingers through Luna's short brown hair; Luna laps her girlfriend's sex with long, quick brushstrokes, like a kitten drinking milk from a saucer. "Ummm," Sam moans, "God, that feels so good."

SAM - 15. Her arms are crossed and she stares uncomfortably at her lap, nodding slowly. "Yeah, Luna and I hung out. We, uh, we had a nice time."

Luna on her hands and knees, her head bowed and her purple skirt hiked up around her hips, her butt thrust into the air and her pink, glistening center bared for all the world to see. Sam splays her hands on Luna's lower back and dips her face between her folds, trailing her tongue down from the cleft of her ass to her throbbing clit, swirling it around her puckered anus on the way. Cheeks flushed, Luna brushes her teeth over her bottom lip and moves her butt slowly, rhythmically back against Sam's face. When Sam comes up for air, she wipes Luna's juices from her mouth with the back of her hand.

"You taste really good," she pants.

 _Back at the Loud house, Lynn Sr. is preparing to leave on an errand. Rita still has not made an appearance, and he leaves Lori in charge._

Lynn standing in the living room, looking at the camera with a strained expression. "Rita still isn't feeling very well. I think it's a stomach bug."

In the next scene, he backs the van out of the driveway and takes a left: The camera stays on him until he turns a corner and disappears from sight. Inside, Rita sits on the edge of the bed in a bathrobe. The curtains are drawn and the room is dark; her hair is messy and her eyes are bloodshot. "I had a headache last night," she mutters, "it happens a lot." She smiles weakly.

Cut to her curled up under the blankets asleep, snoring deeply. The clock on the nightstand reads 2:15pm in glowing red numbers.

 _While Rita sleeps it off, Lincoln assists Lola in picking out an outfit for the day._

The bathroom door opens and Lola comes out in a puff of steam, a towel wrapped around her body and her hair - still dry - done up, a single golden strand falling down one cheek. As if on cue, Lincoln emerges from his room with his hands in his pockets and a barely contained smile on his lips. Lola pretends not to see him and, as she goes to her room, she whips the towel off, baring her slender body. Lincoln's jaw drops and his eyes metaphorically shoot out of his head. In the doorway, she turns to him. "Oh, hi, Lincy," she says, "do you think you can help me pick out something to wear?"

Lincoln closes his mouth and nods. "Sure."

LISA - 4. Arms crossed, eyes narrow in resting apathy. "I strongly suspect that Lola is an exhibitionist. To her, being _seen_ and _watched_ is stimulating. Colloquially speaking, she's an attention whore. She doesn't care who, just as long as their eyes are on _her_. She does prefer it to be Lincoln, however; she comes out of the bathroom naked in front of him on a regular basis, much to our mother's horror and much to Lincoln's sick enjoyment."

In Lola's room, Lincoln sits on the edge of her bed as she rummages in her closet; she wears a white tank top with nothing underneath and a pair of pink panties. She stretches to reach something; her back arches and her butt thrusts out in what one can only assume is a calculated display. Lincoln stares openly, his hands trembling in his lap and his eyes glazing with wicked lust. "Hmmm," Lola hums in a manufactured tone, "what _ever_ shall I wear?" She looks over her shoulder and gives her brother a devious grin.

"You look nice in anything," he says neutrally.

"Do I?" she asks.

He nods, hesitates, then adds, "And in nothing."

A blush bursts across her face and her lips curl up. "Maybe _that's_ what I should wear then."

"You should."

They stare at each other for a moment, then Lola turns, hooks her thumbs into the waistband of her underwear, and pushes them down her legs, leaning forward and swiveling her hips with an exaggerated flourish. Lincoln's Adam's apple bobs and the crotch of his pants begins to twitch. "Am I pretty?" she asks as her panties pool around her ankles.

"Yes," Lincoln says, his voice a dry croak.

She crosses her arms in an X and peels her shirt up with teasing deliberation, the fabric scraping her smooth, creamy flesh. "How pretty?"

"Very pretty," Lincoln says.

The shirt slips over the small, dark nubs of her nipples, which are surprisingly erect. Lincoln leans interestedly forward, his hands cupping his knees. Lola pulls the shirt over her head and tosses it away. She puts her hands on her hips and smiles. "Well?"

Lincoln's gaze creeps from the tips of her pink toenails to the blonde crown of her head, pausing (and here he licks his lips) at the Y-shaped juncture of her thighs. Her eyes are heavily lidded and her glossy lips sparkle in the sunlight falling through the window.

"You're the most beautiful girl I've ever seen," Lincoln says finally.

"Am I?" Lola asks and struts forward.

Lincoln nods again.

Grinning, Lola sinks to her knees and cocks her head playfully. "Prove it."

For a moment Lincoln stares at her...then gets up and starts to unbuckle his belt as he walks over to her. She looks up at him with big, smoky eyes and a lazy smile. When his hard dick pops out like a meaty jack-in-the-box, she blinks in surprise.. "Wow," she draws breathlessly. She looks into her brother's face as he wraps his hand around his length and begins to stroke. "It's nice. And _hard._ "

"That means you're turning me on," he said, his hand moving faster.

"Am I?" she asks innocently.

Lincoln nods. The blush on his face is just as deep and hot as the one on Lola's. She lays her hands on her knees and watches him masturbate with sultry eyes, her pink tongue swiping obscenely across her lower lip. Lincoln locks his gaze with hers, and his lids narrow. He goes faster, faster, producing a fleshy _whack whack whack_. A bead of clear fluid forms at his tip and Lola leans in to investigate it, her head tilting to one side and then the other. She reaches tentatively out and swipes her finger across his head, collecting his essence and bringing to her lips. Staring into his eyes, she licks him from her finger and moans in delight.

"That tastes _soooo_ good."

Lincoln's hand furiously pumps his shaft; his breathing comes in quick, ragged gasps. His knees tremble, his hips buck, more fluid leaks from his swollen head. Lola's cheeks burn and her eyes dance with wicked light; she, too, is breathing heavy, her excitement rising with her brother's.

With a grunt, Lincoln reaches climax: His dick expands and spurts like a jelly doughnut tread underfoot. A blast of whitish cum splatters Lola's chin. Humming, she closes her eyes, opens her mouth, and leans forward. The second spurt lands on her tongue and runneth over in long, thin strands. The third hits her delicate throat, and the fourth and final lands between her throbbing nipples. Lincoln's knees quiver and he nearly falls, but catches himself at the last minute.

Opening her eyes, Lola draws her tongue into her mouth and swallows his warm seed with a purr. Next, she puts her hands to her chest and rubs it slowly into her skin.

LOLA - 6. She sits in front of the backdrop wearing a pink dress, pink gloves, and a crown positioned just so. "Did your brother help you pick that out?" a voice asks from offscreen.

She nods enthusiastically. "Umhm. He has a _really_ good eye for fashion."

"Did you...do anything else together?"

Lola smiles widely. "Yes we did."

"What?"

She crosses her arms and raises a challenging brow. "That's really none of your business, sweetie."

Cut to Flagg1991, so hot it's a wonder that the stage isn't on fire. "Next up, we'll see what - or who - Lynn Sr. is doing, here on _11 Kids and Counting: The Lost Tapes_."


	2. Days of Noah

**Lyrics to Power in the Blood - words by Lewis E. Jones (1899)**

* * *

Light piano music as a montage of the Loud house plays, showing Lisa at her computer, Lucy working on a drawing of hell, Lynn Jr. kicking a soccer ball in the backyard, and Leni brushing her hair. In the master bedroom, Rita stirs and snorts in her sleep.

 _Meanwhile, Lynn Sr. is busy on those 'errands.'_

Seen from the POV of a handheld camcorder pointed out the driver side window of a car: The van parked at the curb of a small house on a narrow side street with clapboard siding. Lynn gets out, goes up the walk, and knocks on the door. It opens, and a thin woman with blonde hair appears with a sunny smile. They kiss, and he goes in.

 **Two hours later**

Lynn comes out and down the porch steps, scratching his crotch as he goes. "Itchy, huh, buddy?" a voice asks and snickers. "Didja even wrap it up?"

Lynn gets into the van and starts it; through the window he can be seen putting his seatbelt on.

The scene cuts to him pulling up in front of another house, this one a tumbledown shotgun shack on the edge of town with an overgrown lawn. He parks in the dirt driveway and gets out. The car bearing the camera slows as he goes up to the door and knocks. A thin woman with frizzy red hair steps out and smirks lavaciously. " _Again?"_ the cameraman asks as Lynn goes inside.

Once more, the scene skips, this time to an open window. Lynn stands in the middle of a dirty bedroom with his head thrown back. The woman is on her knees in front of him, working his dick with amazing gusto, her right hand kneading his hairy ball sack and her left on his butt, her middle finger prodding his rectum. Lynn moans, fists her hair, and rocks his hips violently forward.

Suddenly, he cries out and thrusts deep: She gags as his load floods her mouth and slides down the back of her throat like snot, but dutifully swallows every last drop, then pulls away. "Was that good?" she asks hopefully.

"Very good," Lynn purs. "You're my favorite cum dumpster."

She grins proudly, then sighs. "I hate to ask you this, but I need to borrow some money for baby formula. My husband drank up his paycheck last night."

Lynn winces. "Ooh, sorry, I'm flat broke."

The woman sighs and looks sadly at the floor.

The next scene is of Lynn paying for fuel at Flip's. He opens his wallet to reveal a thick stack of bills. Flip blinks. "Damn, Loud, you're flush."

Lynn laughs. "Yep, got a five hundred dollar bonus this year. Got more money than I know what to do with."

 _At home, Lori is struggling with her sinful desire._

Lori sits in the middle of her bed with her Bible open on her lap, her elbows propped on her legs and her fingers pressed to her temples. She blows a puff of air that stirs her bangs and looks up; her eyes are hazy and unfocused and her cheeks are red.

LORI - 17. "Sometimes no matter how hard you try, impure thoughts just won't leave you alone." Her gaze goes shamefully to her lap. "It's natural," she says, sounding as though she is trying to convince herself of that fact, "but we're supposed to rise above our basest instincts. That's the point of society as a whole when you think about it. Every civilization not built on a solid, Christian bedrock has eventually spiraled into debauchery; Christianity is about being better than that, and a Christ-centered society will always flourish. A Christ-centered _person_ will always flourish. A person who isn't won't." She sighs. "Christ was a man with all the same thoughts, feelings, and urges as us, but he never had sex, he never m-masturbated" She hitches on the last word as if loath and embarrassed to speak it. "I wonder how he did it."

In her room, Lori uncrossed and recrosses her legs in a crisp rustle of looks at Leni, who is sitting on her own bed and staring down at her own Bible: A happy, carefree smile is plastered to her face and her big, doe-like eyes scan the page carefully, her lips moving silently. When she reaches a word she didn't know, her brow crinkles and she did her best to sound it out. Presently, her eyes cross and her mouth opens and closes like a fish on a dock. Her voice is low, confused. " _F-F-Fooooorrrr-"_ She stops and scrunches her mouth to the side with a bemused hum.

Swallowing around a visible lump in her throat, Lori glances down at her Bible and idly flips a page.

" _F-Fooornnnniccccaaation."_

Lori stiffens at the word, and Leni touches her index finger to her chin. "Hey, Lori, fornication is, like, dirty stuff, right?"

At length, Lori nods.

"Okay," Leni chirped.

Lori flips another page and her eyes absently flicker back and forth, widening at one point, then narrowing in concentration, her lips moving without producing sound in a manner identical to her younger sister's. She presses her finger to the paper and traces it, her nail digging too deeply and tearing it.

She glances up and thoughtfully into the distance, then gets to her feet. "I need to take a walk," she mumbles.

Leni frowns at her. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah," Lori says, "I just need to think."

When she is gone, the camera zooms into the open Bible on her bed. The tear is under a passage in the book of 1 Corinthians. _But if they cannot exercise self-control, they should marry. For it is better to marry than to burn with passion._

Cut to Lynn Sr. coming out of a third house, his steps shaky as though he'd just run a marathon. The man behind the camera laughs. "This guy's a machine. No wonder he has eleven kids."

 _At the Loud house, Rita finally drags herself out of bed and begins her day._

Rita shuffles into the hall with one hand pressed to her head; the clock on the nightstand says 6:15pm.

"I guess I overslept," she says and chuckles nervously as she makes her way to the bathroom. From her doorway, Lana watches her mother pass with a worried expression, while, across the way, Lucy watches with outward apathy, her arms lank at her sides and her black bangs veiling her eyes like a funeral shroud.

LUCY - 8. "Drunks are going to hell, Republicans are going to hell, black people are going to hell, men are going to hell, atheists are going to hell, domestic animals are going to hell, my mother's going to hell, your mother's going to hell -"

"My mother's already dead," a voice says. It sounds mildly offended.

Lucy doesn't miss a beat. "Then she's already in hell. Rappers are going to hell, the Jonas Brothers are going to hell, that woman who wrote _Twilight_ is going to hell…"

Outside, Lori moves absently down the sidewalk like a ship adrift, her hands on her hips and her eyes pointed at the ground. She draws a deep sigh and stops, her teeth chewing her bottom lip in thought. She looks troubled, upset - maybe even conflicted.

LORI - 17. She's doubled over, her arms wrapped around her chest and her head down. "What's on your mind, Lori?" a female voice asks offscreen.

A moment passes, then Lori looks up, her eyes pooled with turmoil. "Marriage," she says ponderously.

"You want to get married?"

Lori ticks her head from side to side as she considers. "Kind of, but more like...you know...the concept of marriage. What _is_ it? If two people stand before God in love and unity, like, does there really need to be a minister? I mean...the whole ceremony seems kind of redundant or something."

"If you love someone and want to give yourself to them, that's between you, them, and God."

A shadow of uncertainty flickers across Lori's face. "But the love you feel for them...what if it's...not _that_ kind of love? What if…?"

The woman cuts her off. "Love takes many different forms, hun. The ancient Greeks called love "the madness of the gods." Modern psychologists define it as it the strong desire for emotional union with another person. Lust, on the other hand, is aimless, it's a physical drive much like hunger and doesn't center on a specific individual. Do you feel love for one person in particular?"

Lori's eyes dart to her lap. "Yes. But...I don't know if it's really _that_ kind of love, of if it's love at all, and if it is, it's sinful love."

"Does that person make you happy?"

Lori nodded. "Yes. H-He's great. I just don't -"

"What's so sinful about being with someone you love?"

Lori opens her mouth to speak, but the woman butts in again. "Love is spiritual. Romantic love, familial love...everything else is superficial. Their weight, their hair color, whether or not they're the same sex as you are or even...say...related to you. You cannot control who you love, it's something that happens within, a fire sparked by God. God has a plan and a purpose for your life, doesn't He?"

Lori takes only a second to nod. "Yes, He does, but in the Bible…"

"Pffft. Forget about the Bible. The Bible isn't accurate, honey, it's a book cobbled together from ancient texts translated by Englishman with a rudimentary understanding of Hebrew. It's the work of _men,_ Lori, and men are fallible. God is not, and if you want to hear his word, listen to your heart."

Nodding, Lori gazes pensively at her knees.

"Alright," the female voice says, "that's a wrap."

Lori looks up, her eyes distant and meditative. "I can go now?"

"Yep."

Without speaking, Lori gets up and walks away. Moments later, a fat woman with frizzy hair appears on camera, a wide Cheshire grin on her face. "They don't call you the Queen of Bullshit for nothing," a man laughs offscreen. "I can't believe she bought it."

"I can," the woman says, "these Christian kids are so sheltered they wouldn't recognize a con if he was taking the rings off their fingers."

The man chuckles. "You think she'll take your advice to heart?"

"Uh, yeah, you've seen the way she looks at him." Her smile widens and she fists her hands in excitement, her bulging hips swaying side to side in what one can only assume is her happy dance. "She's totally going to have sex with her brother. Ratings are going to be through the _roof_."

The man's laughter cuts out like throwing a switch. "Hey, that numbskull left the camera on."

"Pfft," the woman says and waves her hand in a dismissive gesture, "we'll just have them edit it out later."

"They better not forget."

The woman rolls her eyes. "They won't."

 _On the soundstage, unseen by the viewers at home, Flagg pales. "Oh, shit."_

LUCY - 8. "...Stephen King is going to hell, Mr. Grouse is going to hell, Mrs. Johnson the Sunday school teacher is going to hell, that guy holding the boom mike over there is going to hell, Charles, Cliff, Geo, and Walt are going to hell, all of Lana's lizards and frogs are going to hell, Eric Bischoff's going to hell, Bill Nye the Science Guy is going to hell…"

 _While her family members are engaged in their own activities, Lisa spends time alone in her lab, inputting data on her computer and listening, surprisingly, to religious music on YouTube._

Lisa sits in a swivel chair in front of her computer, the soft glow of the screen tinting her face blue and reflecting off the lens of her glasses. She types in furious bursts, leans back, and navigates the mouse across a pad, then does it over again. Music drifts from a speaker on the desk, positioned to face her: Rhythmic hand claps, guitar, and a choir of voices.

 _Would you be free from your passion and pride?_

 _There's pow'r in the blood, pow'r in the blood;_

 _Come for a cleansing to Calvary's tide;_

 _There's wonder working power in the bloo_ d.

Lisa sits back from the computer, pinches the bridge of her nose, and sighs. "If there's one thing I detest, it's data entry. It's so goddamn time consuming."

"Do you always listen to this while you work?"

Lisa looks up at the camera. "To what?"

"Gospel."

Lisa shakes her head. "Sometimes I listen to Bach, other times I listen to The Beach Boys. Every once in awhile…" here she blushes slightly "...I even listen to The Wiggles." She looks away in shame.

"I just didn't expect you to listen to religious music...given your agnosticism."

With a long-suffering sigh, Lisa turns in her chair. "Yes, I doubt the existence of God and cannot bring myself to believe in something for which there is no tangible evidence. That does not, however, mean that I don't find the idea of salvation and of Christ comforting. I do. In fact, the thought of dying and being led by departed loved ones to heaven, where Christ waits with open arms, appeals to me greatly, and there is a part of me that sincerely wants it to be true. I would also like magic and fiscally responsible governance to be true, but I'm not holding my breath."

 _There is power, power, wonder-working power_

 _In the blood of the Lamb;_

 _There is power, power, wonder-working power_

 _In the precious blood of the Lamb._

She turns back to the computer and begins to type again. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a lot of work to do."

"Are you aware -?"

"Yes," Lisa interjects curtly, "I know what happened between Lincoln and Lola this morning. I frankly don't care. That's between them and God, if He exists, if he doesn't, it's between just them."

"Doesn't it bother you, though? You're a vastly intelligent individual, Lisa, you're fully aware that what's going on between Lincoln and Lola - and Luan _and_ Lynn - isn't normal or healthy."

Lisa scans the screen with a tired sigh. "No," she says without turning, "but society as a whole isn't healthy and hasn't been in a very long time...if it ever was to begin with. Everyone's on antidepressants and suffering from anxiety; people stab each other over tennis shoes; political partisans work day and night to dehumanize 'the other side' because it's easier to hate an exaggerated caractiure than it is to a living, feeling human being, and hate is the fuel of modern politics; birth rates are plummeting; global warming is rising; people are greedy, immoral, self-absorbed, shallow, materialistic, and undisciplined; educational standards are climbing but common goddamn sense is dropping; we're being conditioned via political correctness to shut down, ignore, or flee from opinions with which we disagree; the government pisses millions and millions of dollars away every year and no one gives a shit; people go into bankruptcy to pay exorbitant hospital bills; everything is overpriced and under-delivered."

She talks faster and her face hardens. "Our food is pumped full of chemicals and bullshit preservatives that the FDA says is aokay but has been linked to cancer, heart disease, and obesity; homeless people with nowhere to go and nothing to eat, and the prevailing, self-centered attitude that it's _always_ their fault and _stay away from mah tax dollars_. The right makes such noise about being Christian, but somehow always manage to apply the "thou shalt nots' and never the 'thou shalts.' Thou shall not be gay, alright, I'm behind the one hundred percent. Thou shall help the poor? Whoa, wait a minute, that sounds like socialism. On the other side, liberals are waging a campaign of identity politics meant to drive a wedge between the races because _gee, gotta have that sweet, sweet minority vote_. No one realizes this because they're too fucking stupid; they believe what they see on TV and read on the internet and lack critical thinking skills."

Her voice rises. It's obvious this is a topic she is passionate about.

"Because of the overinflated threat of brown terrorists and white racists, we're begging our government to clamp down like sheep begging a pack of wolves to protect them. Hatred, bigotry, poverty, wickedness, immortality, murder, thieving, lying, a mass media that pumps out _shit_ video games, movies, and music meant to degrade women and promote a criminal and materialistic lifestyle…"

She turns to the camera, shaking and red faced. "Taking all of that and _more_ under consideration, no, I don't care that Lincoln jacked off onto Lola's face and I don't care that he fucked Lynn and Luan either. I'm more worried about the heartless, popcorn eating wretches sitting at home and happily watching the disintegration of a family than I am about anything happening in this house. They look at us - at our facade, rather - and laugh. Ha, they believe in modesty and not slinging their dicks around; they believe in waiting until marriage, what losers; they don't like Tupac calling women bitches and whores and don't like it when women cheapen themselves by dressing like prostitutes. Ha. What pieces of shit.

"One of the main reasons I cannot let go entirely of my parents' faith is because before the Flood, the world was a wicked, horrible place, and it is stated that before the coming of man, the world will be as it was in the days of Noah. If this isn't what it was like then, I _tremble_ to imagine what it must have actually been like.

"And you...gleefully documenting perversion, dysfunctionality, substance abuse, mental illness, and misery for the sake of ratings. You people make me sick." She spits the last part with shocking venom. "I never wanted you bastards here in the first place."

She turns back to the computer screen. "Now get the fuck out of my room." She twists around and jabs her finger at the camera. "And keep that goddamn thing out of my face for the remainder of your stay or so help me God I'll throw sodium hydroxide in your face."

 _Lynn Sr. finally returns home from his 'errands' to find Lori preparing dinner in Rita's stead._

Rita sits at the kitchen table with her head in her hands and a mug of coffee in front of her. Lori opens the oven, bends over, and takes out a long glass dish. "Hey, sweetie," Lynn says as he passes, his hand absently scratching his much used crotch. He goes to Rita and kisses her on the forehead. "Hey, hon, how you feeling?"

"Like death warmed over," Rita croaks. "That headache was a doozy."

A knowing light flickers in Lynn's eyes, then it is gone. "I bet it was," he says with a patronizing hilt. He shrugs out of his jacket and drapes it over the back of a chair. Rita sniffs the air, and her eyes narrow slightly.

"You smell funny," she says, "like sin." One can only assume she has detected the scent of woman on her husband.

Smiling, he lays his hand on her shoulder and leans in to her ear. "So do you."

Drawing away, Lynn goes over to Lori, who is using a knife to cut the contents of the dish into squares. He glances over her shoulder. "What are we having, honey?"

Rita glares at his back as she lifts the coffee mug to her lips; her hand shakes, and in the glare of the camera lights, her face is wrinkled and haggard. She does not look forty-one, she looks fifty-one. A _hard_ fifty-one.

"Tuna casserole," Lori says.

"Yum," Lynn replies.

Rita takes a sip of coffee and grimaces. Looking around to make sure she is not being observed (missing the camera to her left, apparently) she reaches into her robe pocket and brings out a bottle of vodka. Holding it below the table's surface, she untwists the cap, grabs the mug, and pours a generous measure in. She screws the cap back on, returns it to her pocket, and takes another sip of coffee, nodding in satisfaction as she sits the mug back on the table. "That's better."

 _The family gathers for dinner, but one member is conspicuously absent._

Lynn Sr. at the head of the table, looking around in confusion. "Where's Luna?"

Everyone shrugs, says "I dunno" or ignores the question entirely. Lisa opens her mouth as if to speak, but glances at the camera and closes it again, her eyes hardening. _Sodium hydroxide_ , she mouths, and the camera whips away, falling on Lynn, who is openly eye fucking her brother from across the table. Lola, sitting between her and Lana, notices and shoots her a dirty look that she doesn't notice.

LOLA - 6. "Why did you scowl at Lynn during dinner?" the fat woman asks off camera.

"I didn't like the way she was looking at Lincy," Lola says, crossing her arms and jutting out her chin.

"Why?"

Lola rolls her eyes away from the camera. "I just didn't."

Back at the table, Lynn Sr. sighs. "No one knows where Luna is?" He casts an expectant look over his children, and when no one speaks, he shakes his head and pulls out his phone. At his right hand, Rita takes a sip of coffee and crinkles her nose at her plate.

RITA - 41. Swaying in the chair, eyelids fluttering and a stupid grin on her face. "Why didn't you eat tonight, Rita?" the fat woman asks; from her tone, she knows damn well why Rita didn't eat.

"Wasn't hungry," she says thickly.

"Oh? And why is that?"

Shrugging, Rita purses her lips. "Just wasn't."

"Did you drink your dinner?"

Rita's eyes narrow and she leans forward, one finger jerking up. "I didn't drink my dinner," she says, "I didn't...I didn't even _have_ dinner. I had a coffee." She holds her index and middle fingers up in a V. " _Two_ coffees."

Lynn Sr. holds his phone to his ear with a strained expression on his face, his fingers drumming on the edge of the table. "Luna, where are you?" he asks when she answers. He listens, his lips puckering in disdain. "Well...come home. Dinner's on the table."

Not giving her a chance to argue, he stabs the END button and sets the phone on the table. WIthout a word, he picks up his fork and begins to eat, his movements sharp with annoyance. Lori takes a bite of her food and stares longingly at Lincoln as she chews. Lynn brushes her teeth across her bottom lip and gives him a slow nod pregnant with meaning. Lola spares her older sister a hateful sidelong glance, and in her eyes you can see the gears of her mind turning.

Lynn Sr. swallows. "So...how was everyone's day?"

"Totes good," Leni replies airily, "I, like memorized a whole Bible verse."

Lynn's brows shoot up. "Really?" he asks, impressed.

LYNN SR. - 43. Lynn sits in front of the backdrop with his arms crossed. "Leni," he starts haltingly, and his eyes dart to is lap, "is…" he visibly struggles to find the right word. "...Leni. She's forgetful and...not as strong in... " here he sighs. "She's a little slow," he admits, then hastens to add, "but that's okay. She more than makes up for it by being sweet and loving. She's the kind of girl who lights up a room when she walks into it and if one of her siblings is upset, she's right there to do whatever she can to lift them up. Out of all of us, she's the most Christlike." He nods and glances down at his lap again, his dark eyes troubled. "Yes, she is."

At the table, Leni nods eagerly. "Yep." She smiles proudly. "Jesus cried."

LYNN SR. - 43. "The actual quote," he says, looking a touch disappointed, "is 'Jesus wept.' She came close, though, and that's something."

A grin spread across Lola's face and she sits up straight. "I memorized a Bible verse today too," she says and looks at her father.

"Really?" he asks. "Which one?"

Lola turns her eyes to Lincoln, and their gazes lock. ""Wake, O north wind; and come, thou south; blow upon my garden, that the spices thereof may flow out. Let my beloved come into his garden, and eat his pleasant fruits.'" She nods and scrapes her teeth across her bottom lip; Lincoln bows his head to hide his dirty smile.

Lynn looks from her to Lincoln, then down to his plate. "That's very nice, honey," he mutters. At his right hand, Rita stares at her daughter with scornful eyes, then drains her mug and gets up to refill it, going, for some reason, into the garage before the coffeemaker.

 _Just as dinner ends, Luna arrives home. We're there to greet her_.

Luna crosses the living room, her hands shoved into the pockets of her jacket. She's grinning mischievously. "Where were you, Luna?" a cameraman asks.

"Hangin' with my girl," Luna says, then turns to the camera and flicks her tongue out. "Gene Simmons style."

Lynn looks up from his plate as she enters, and his eyes creak to angry slits. "Where were you, young lady?"

"Out," Luna says simply and goes to the fridge.

"Out?" Lynn asks, a challenge in his voice.

Luna opens the door and takes out a Coke. She pops the top and leans against the counter. "Yeah," she says, matching her father's tone, "out."

A dark shadow passes over Lynn's face like a cloud before the sun. "You know to be home before dinner," he says with tense patience. "It's 6:30 every -"

"I lost track of time," she intrudes.

"That's no excuse," he says, his voice lowering to a rumble.

Luna took a long drink. "Eh. It is what it is."

Lynn's fist crashed swiftly down onto the table, and everyone jumps. "I'm getting really sick of your attitude! I am your father, you will show me respect and honor or -"

"Ya gotta earn it, dude."

Lynn's face turns a deep scarlet and he starts to shake like a kettle on a stove. He shoots to his feet, knocking his chair over and bumping into the table; Rita's mug spills and brown liquid spreads across the table like the Red Sea rushing in on Pharaoh's men. "My vodka!" she cries, her hands flying to her temples.

" _GO TO YOUR ROOM!"_ Lynn roars. " _YOU'RE GROUNDED FOR THE NEXT SIX MONTHS!"_

Flashing, Luna slams her Coke against the floor and squares up. "How 'bout you ground your dick and stop putting it in women who aren't Mom?"

" _FUCK YOU! GET OUT OF MY KITCHEN, YOU PIECE OF SHIT!"_

Luna's lips peel back from her teeth and her eyes glow with rage; her hands clench at her sides and her muscles tense. "He who commits adultery lacks sense," she snarls. "He who does it destroys himself. Proverbs 6:32, motherfucker."

Lynn's open palm comes down in a deadly arc, striking across Luna's face with a crisp _slap!_ Her head whips to one side in a spray of saliva and she falls to her hands and knees. "Lynn!" Rita screams. Lori's hand flutters to her mouth. Lynn Jr. pales. Lola blinks. Leni gasps. Lucy beams.

Luna stares up at her father with a mixture of shock, hate and horror, her fingers probing the angry red handprint on her cheek. " _GET AWAY FROM ME!"_ Lynn yells.

She looks at him a moment, then pushes to her feet. "Fuck you," she mutters savagely as she storms out of the kitchen, "cheatin' ass piece of shit hypocrite motherfucker."

Lynn stands in the middle of the kitchen, his shoulders scrunched and rising and falling with each heavy, apelike breath; his face is the color of blood and his hands are balled into fists. No one dares to look at him; they regard their plates with castigated stares, except for Rita, who rubs her temples. She grabs her mug and gets up with a sigh.

"Just bring the fucking bottle in the house," Lynn snaps and throws his palm up like he is about to go Kung Fu on her, "we all know you drink, Rita."

Lana looks strickenly around. "Mom drinks?"

No one replies.

Rita hesitates...then scurries into the garage, the door clicking softly shut behind her. Putting his hands on his hips, Lynn stares down at the floor and shakes his head slowly, his lips a tight, bloodless slash. Lori and Leni share a worried glance, and Lucy is breathing heavy, as though her father smiting Luna had turned her on.

Finally, without a word, he walks out, leaving his children alone.

LUNA - 15. She sits in the chair, slouched to one side with her arms crossed sullenly over her chest and darkness swirling in her eyes. The handprint is still clearly visible on the side of her face. "Are you okay, sweetie?" the fat woman asks, her voice dripping faux concern like bitter honey.

"Fine," Luna says.

"You sure?"

"Yeah. He hits like a bitch. Don't worry about it." She takes a deep breath, then begins to rant. "What fucking right does _he_ has to say something to _me?_ Look at him, he's dicking a fuck ton of other women like a philandering bastard, yet I'm a disgusting fucking dyke for being into _one_ girl? I have to respect and honor _him?_ Fuck him. He doesn't deserve respect and honor. If anything, man, he deserves a little Old Testament justice. Ya know what they did to cheating assholes in the Old Testament days? They stoned them."

She shakes her head and grumbles under her breath.

LORI - 17. She sits slumped before the backdrop, her shoulders sagging and her eyes haunted; she resembles a refuge from a war torn African nation "I-I've never seen Dad that angry," she says, a hollow quality to her voice. "He-He's _never_ hit one of us like that before."

"Has he ever hit your mother?" the fat woman asks.

Lori shakes her head vehemently. "No, never."

"Has he ever...touched you?"

Lori's eyes widen. "What? No! God, no, he never...no!"

 _After the confrontation between Luna and Lynn Sr., Lynn retreats to his room where he watches religious programming to help himself calm down. Luna tunes and retunes her guitar while FaceTiming with Sam, and Lola...well…_

In her room, Lola stands at her closet in only in her underwear: Pink panties and a pink training bra with lacy back fringe. She wears pearls around her neck and is flipping through the dresses hanging from the rod, her right knee bent, heel off the floor and toes digging into the carpet. She puts her hand on her hip and hums indecisively.

"What are you doing, Lola?" the cameraman asks.

Scanning the contents of her closet, Lola scrunches her lips to the side. "Getting dressed," she replies.

"Going somewhere?"

She shakes her head. "Nope. I'm staying in."

The cameraman misses a beat. "Then why are -?"

Lola spins around, her eyes blazing. "BECAUSE I LIKE TO LOOK PRETTY, THAT'S WHY!"

Falling back a step, the cameraman lets out a strangled cry of fright and nearly trips over one of Lana's work boots, the scene shaking. Lola glares...then breaks out in a sultry smile. "Do I look pretty?"

"Y-Yeah, sure," the cameraman says uncertainly.

She turns around and sticks out her butt. Looking sexily over her shoulder, she bats her eyelashes. "Do I turn you on?"

The cameraman responds with a quick and unequivocall, "No."

Lola's brow lowers and her lips turn down at the corners. She reached behind her back, unclasps her bra, and lets the straps fall away. Holding it to her chest, she smirk. "Now?"

"No."

Fire fills her eyes and she lunges at him, but he's quick; howling in alarm, he turns tail and flees the room, the camera jostling crazily. "Come back here!" Lola shouts. "Get hard for me!"

BILL STEVENS - CAMERA TECHNICIAN. A chubby man with black hair and blue eyes sits in front of the backdrop looking nervous. "I fought in Iraq," he says, "two tours. My Humvee hit a roadside bomb in Fallujah in 2006 and while we were down, insurgents ambushed us. I spent six hours huddled behind a burning hunk of metal trading fire with hardened Baathists...and I've _never_ been as scared as I was when Lola Loud chased me down the stairs." He chops the air with his palm for emphasis. "I knew going in that she was...a case...but I never expected her to run me down the way she did."

Lynn stands in the middle of the living room. He opens his mouth to speak, but a terrified wail cuts him off. The camera turns, and Bill Stevens barrels down the stairs, his rig on his shoulder. "Help me!" He stumbles on the last step and falls to his knees. Lola appears, her face hard and her hands balled into fists.

"Lola!" Lynn Sr. cries, and Lola starts.

Seeing the camera, she smiles sheepishly and utters a nervous laugh. "I was just…"

"Chasing someone in your underwear," Lynn says, a keen edge in his voice.

"Well...when you put it like _that…"_

Lynn points up the stairs. "Go to your room."

Sighing, Lola hangs her head and trudges out of sight, muttering curses under her breath. Lynn looks at Rita, who holds her robe closed with one claw-like hand and looks worried. Lynn draws a deep breath and shakes his head. "We're going back to homeschooling," he says. "It's been nothing but trouble since they started."

"Lynn…" Rita says.

"No, my mind is made up."

Cut to that sexy beast Flagg1991 on the soundstage. "Looks like it's back to homeschool for the Loud kids. Coming up, you will see footage so shocking and repulsive that the FCC ordered us not to show it." Flagg1991 grins like a shark. "But we are anyway, so don't touch that dial; _11 Kids and Counting: The Lost Tapes_ will be right back."


	3. The Book of Revelation

**FanBoy-Guest: There's nothing up his nose; he's holding a swtchblade up to his face like he's about to cut someone.**

* * *

Flagg1991 appears on screen looking like the world's sexiest man - because he is. "And now," he says, "for the shocking conclusion of _11 Kids and Counting: The Lost Tapes_."

Lynn and Rita lying in bed, Lynn with his arms crossed and a scowl on his face, Rita with a bottle of vodka tilted back, her throat bobbing as she drinks.

Lori sitting on her bed and looking restless.

Lynn Jr. in the backyard, kicking soccer ball as the fiery afternoon light drains from the sky.

And Lucy sitting Indian style in the middle of her bed with a shoebox in front of her.

Leaning over, she lifts the lid, reaches in, and pulls out a small brown puppy with floppy ears and a wet nose. Its tongue falls out of its mouth and it begins to pant in excitement, its big eyes shimmering with love for its new master. It dangles from her hand by the scruff of its neck, twisting from side to side and its little legs kicking. It lashed its tongue at the air in an attempt to kiss Lucy's face, perhaps in thanks for being so kind and loving and -

Her hand shoots out and wraps around the animal's throat; its eyes bug out and it starts to thrash in panic as its air supply is cruelly cut off, its ears flapping wildly like frightened wings. Lucy brings its face to hers and sneers hatefully. "The wicked shall taste the fury of the Almighty, for the wages of sin is death; but the gift of God is eternal life through Jesus Christ our Lord. You can't seek Christ's forgiveness, though. _Can_ you?"

The puppy is yelping in holy terror and trembling in fear. Its bladder releases and a yellow stream splatters the front of Lucy's dress. She doesn't seem to notice. "Because you're a stupid animal. You fornicate, don't keep holy the sabbath, and steal things that don't belong to you. You're an evil, wicked piece of shit." She growls and squeezes tighter, adding her other hand for added effect. The puppy begins to convulse, its eyes swelling like two rapidly inflating balloons. With a wet pop, they explode against Lucy's face, showering her with blood and bits of gelatinous ocular meat. Blood and chunks of brain ooze from the puppy's mouth and nose; its body is completely limp now...its suffering over.

She sucks a deep breath through her teeth and lets it out slowly and evenly through her nose.

A glob of eye falls from her nose and lands on her upper lip. Her tongue darts out and pulls it into her mouth. She swishes it around as if trying to decide whether or not she likes the taste, then swallows. "You shouldn't have sinned," she said and tosses the tiny body onto the floor. She reaches into the shoebox and brings out another…

DR. FREDERICK BONHAM, PH.D, CHILD PSYCHOLOGIST. A hefty man with a gray beard and glasses and wearing a red sweater sits behind a desk in what looks like an office. Through a wide picture window, green, sun-dappled trees stir in the breeze. "Psychopathy, sometimes considered synonymous with sociopathy, is traditionally defined as a personality disorder characterized by persistent antisocial behavior, impaired empathy and remorse, and bold, disinhibited, and egotistical traits. It can be caused by nature or nurture, and is very hard to properly diagnose in someone as young as Lucy Loud. Her actions could be a result of underlying mental aberration or it could be any number of things. Her religious fixation is superficial, i believe. Her apparent sadism and lack of empathy is latent, meaning that it is inherently present. Given her upbringing, it understandably manifests itself through a prism of religion. Remove religion, and it would present in another way. If her family were staunch liberals, for example, she might feel the same way for 'regressives' or 'right wingers' that she does for 'sinners.' In her current worldview, everyone is a sinner, and as a political liberal, everyone would be a regressive."

In her room, Lucy tosses a dead puppy onto the floor, adding another to the heap; there are six now. She reaches into the box and takes out another. This one receives neither rebuke or preamble: She crushes its head between her vise-like hands, its pink brains oozing through her fingers. She tilts her head back and sucks a sharp intake of breath as if drawing in its departing soul. "Ummm," she moans. A slight grin pulls at the corners of her lips, and letting the puppy drop to the bed, she presses her hands to the front of her dress and smears its gore across her chest

LUCY - 8. She sits in the chair with her arms crossed and her eyes hidden. She wears a deep frown. "Sexual sins are the worst," she deadpans, "Controlling your desires through will and self-determination denote strength. Anyone who has sex or masturbates is wicked, weak, and will go to hell."

Sitting back against the headboard, Lucy pulls her dress over her head and tosses it away, then removes the black and white striped shirt underneath. Her chest is flat and pale, and her tiny nipples are rock hard; clad in only her striped leggings, she runs her hands over her gaunt body, starting at the bottom of her stomach and working her way to her breasts, the puppy's blood and brains splotching her ghostly flesh. She sucks her bottom lip into her mouth and rubs her nipples in slow, lazy circles, her breathing quickening.

Hooking her thumbs into her leggings, she drags them down and kicks out of them; she is entirely naked, the dark cleft of her sex clearly visible. She picks the puppy up, hovers it over her upturned palm, and squeezes; more brains plop onto her hand with a wet sound. She tosses the corpse away, digs her heels into the mattress, and dips the hand bearing the gore between her legs, a gasp tearing from her throat when the warm, gooey mess touches her swollen lips. She exhales through her nose and begins to knead her clit; chunks of brain sliding down her folds like pink rain and landing on the bed. A furious blush touches her cheeks and her mouth drops open, her hand squirming faster.

"You shall acknowledge no God but me," she pants, " you are destroyed, Israel...They will fall by the sword; their little ones will be dashed to the ground, their pregnant women ripped open." Her voice ebbs and flows as her passion rises. "Therefore the Lord will smite with a scab the crown of the h-head of the daughters of Z-Zion, and the Lord will dis-discover their s-secret p-p-parts." Her hand rolls in deep, blindingly fast circles, her leaking juice mixing with the puppy's brains and squelching against her fingers. "A-And ye shall e-eat the f-flesh of your s-sons, and the flesh of your d-d-daughters shall ye eat."

Lucy cries out and spasms as her unholy orgasm bursts upon her; her back arches and her hips thrust reflexively up and down as if to sheath and stroke the throbbing fury of her Lord.

Spent, she collapses against the bed, her chest rising and falling.

LUCY - 8. "Barack Obama's going to hell, Tonya Harding's going to hell, that little boy down the street who eats his boogers is going to hell, Lori's going to hell…"

"What about you, Lucy?" the fat woman asks impatiently.

Lucy stares blankly, then speaks. "...I'm going to hell…"

 _Lucy isn't the only one in the house engaging in deviant sexual activity._

Lincoln sits up in bed reading a paperback book with Joel Olsteen's smiling face on the cover. _You Can, You Will_ the title proclaims. His legs are crossed at the ankles and he is naked save for his underwear, which cling tightly to the bulge between his legs. He absently shakes one foot and nods his head as if to music only he can hear.

LYNN SR. - 43. "I personally don't like Joel Olsteen. He's a glorified motivational speaker with a billion dollar megachurch. Greedy, annoying little man."

Beginning to hum, Lincoln turns a page, but freezes at the telltale creak of rusty hinges. His eyes dart up, and Lola is there in a pink dress and crown, her gap tooth smile lascivious and her brown eyes sparkling with naughty intent. Her golden hair spills over her shoulders like soft summer wheat, and the loose fabric of her dress lies slack against her slender frame, pinching in the juncture of her thighs and outlining her natural Y-shaped curve.

She closes the door behind her and leans against it, her hands behind her back and her head held high in a regal pose, her neck graceful and gazelle-like. "Hi, Lincy," she says, her voice low and sultry.

A smug smirk touches Lincoln's mouth - as though he knew she couldn't stay away - and he closes the book, setting it on the nightstand. "Hi, Lola,"

"I was wondering if you could help me with something," she says.

"Of course," Lincoln replies and sits up straighter, "I love helping you, Lola."

Her smile widens and she comes forward, the hem of her dress swishing around her feet like a cloud of girlish lust. She sits on the edge of the bed and rests her gloved hands in her lap, her eyes searching for and finding her brother's. "You look very nice tonight," he says and lays his hand on one of hers.

"Do I?" she asks huskily. She is beginning to blush.

Lincoln nods and dances his fingers up her arm. "You're beautiful."

"Really?" she asks and scoots closer, her hand splaying on his leg.

He touches her cheek and gazes deeply into her eyes. "Behold, thou art fair, my love; behold, thou art fair; thou hast doves' eyes. Behold, thou art fair, my beloved, yea, pleasant."

Lola smiles giddily. "As the apple tree among the trees of the wood, so is my beloved among the sons. I sat down under his shadow with great delight, and his fruit was sweet to my taste." She creeps her fingers over his bulge and lightly squeezes.

Sighing, he brushes his thumb across the ridge of her cheekbone and tilts his head forward. "Thy lips are like a thread of scarlet, and thy speech is comely: thy temples are like a piece of a pomegranate within thy locks."

She leans into hm, their noses nearly touching. "I sleep, but my heart waketh: it is the voice of my beloved that knocketh, saying, Open to me, my sister, my love, my dove, my undefiled: for my head is filled with dew, and my locks with the drops of the night."

They're both breathing heavily now, their faces flush with swelling excitement. Lincoln takes her face in his hands and grazes his fingers down her silken throat. She purrs and smiles hazily, He slowly kisses the corner of her mouth and she inhales sharply.

"Thou hast ravished my heart, my sister, my spouse," Lincoln says and kisses the side of her neck. "Thou hast ravished my heart with one of thine eyes, with one chain of thy neck."

Lola closes her eyes and tilts her head back, her breath catching as Lincoln's lips gently kisses and tastes her skin. "O that thou wert as my brother," she breathes, "that sucked the breasts of my mother! when I should find thee without, I would kiss thee; yea, I should not be despised."

"We have a little sister, and she hath no breasts," Lincoln panted against her neck, his fingers grazing her face and brushing through her blonde hair. "What shall we do for our sister in the day when she shall be spoken for?"

"My beloved is white and ruddy, the chiefest among ten thousand," Lola says and lays her hand upon his chest, her eyelids fluttering and her lips sparkling in the light.

Lincoln flicks her earlobe with the tip of his tongue and she shudders. "How beautiful are thy feet with shoes, O prince's daughter! the joints of thy thighs are like jewels, the work of the hands of a cunning workman."

Lola is breathing raggedly now, her exhalations hot bursts from deep within her breast. "His eyes are as the eyes of doves by the rivers of waters, washed with milk, and fitly set."

He gently lays her back on the bed and mounts her; her hair pools around her head like a halo and her dress forms to her body. Lincoln slips his hands into her hair and peppers her face with kisses; she arches her back and her crotch rubs against his bulge. "Thy navel is like a round goblet, which wanteth not liquor," he sighs, "thy belly is like an heap of wheat set about with lilies." He kisses her nose, her chin, along her jawline, his hips sliding forward and his aching erection grinding along the V of her femininity: Her underwear and dress and his underwear were the only things separating them, three thin layers through which the heat of their arousal seeped and combined.

"His cheeks are as a bed of spices, as sweet flowers: his lips like lilies, dropping sweet smelling myrrh." She strokes his cheek as he kisses the corner of her mouth, tasting her warm breath. Their lips meet, and they stare into each other's eyes, their chest rapidly rising and falling.

"Thy two breasts are like two young roes that are twins," he pants and licks her bottom lip. "Thy neck is as a tower of ivory; thine eyes like the fishpools in Heshbon, by the gate of Bathrabbim: thy nose is as the tower of Lebanon which looketh toward Damascus." He molds his lips to hers and kisses her deeply, one hand woven through her hair and the other pushing her dress up her leg, smooth, creamy flesh exposed inch by inch.

The kiss breaks and Lola pants. "His mouth is most sweet: yea, he is altogether lovely. This is my beloved, and this is my friend, O daughters of Jerusalem."

Lincoln's hand disappears up her dress, then he slowly pulls her panties down her legs, bringing them over her ankles and lifting them to his nose with a cold, boyish grin. "Thy lips, O my spouse, drop as the honeycomb: honey and milk are under thy tongue; and the smell of thy garments is like the smell of Lebanon." He tosses them aside and runs his hand up her inner thigh. She watches him with rosy cheeks, her eyes muddied with lust and her breast heaving. When his fingers graze the silky veil enshrouding the opening of her temple, she sighs and closes her eyes.

He leans forward, and his arm begins to move as he masturbates her, his fingers making a wet _shlick_ as they massage her leaking center. She utters a soft, breathy moan and lifts her legs into an M. "Ooooh, Lincy," she wavers, "l-like that. T-Touch me there." His face lingers inches above hers, and they kiss, her hands going to his face and her hips rocking insistently against his fingers. Lincoln begins to shake with desire, his breathing explosive, his face beet red. Breaking, he hooks his thumb into the waistband of his underwear and drags them down; his dick pops out and catches the hem of her dress. He swallows hard as he pushes it up her hips, laying bare the pink fruit of her vine. He plants his hands on either side of her and shifts his hips, raking her with his rod and staff.

Grinning wickedly, the fires of hell burning in her eyes, Lola watches him expectantly. He reaches down, guides his tip to her opening, and begins to push; a look of pain flickers across her face and she winces. Lincoln's brow furrows at her unexpected tightness, but he presses on anyway, his tip spreading her virgin passage. Lola's face screws up in agony. "I-I don't think you're going to fit," she pants.

"Oh, I'll fit," Lincoln said, "even if I have to force it."

He throws his hips forward and gains another inch.

Lola hisses. "Ow! Stop!"

Lincoln bows his head and shoved deeper. Lola howls in pain. "Stop! It hurts!" She balls her fists and pounds them against Lincoln's chest. Flashing, he brings up his hand and swipes the back across her cheek like a falling ax. _Slap!_ Lola cries out, and sneering, Lincoln throws himself forward, filling her completely. Her eyes virtually shoot out of her head and a weak, breathy scream issues from her throat. Lincoln grunts, pulls back, and drives forward again, making her jump.

"Stop!" she begs, "you're ripping me!"

Lincoln slams deep, and Lola begins to cry. "That's right," Lincoln says in a husky whisper, "cry for me."

She thrashes beneath him, and his hand wraps around her throat, squeezing. Her eyes bug out and her lips pucker. Lincoln goes faster, ravaging her, his butt propelling back and forth. Her face turns pink, then purple as she strangles, her struggle intensifying as panic sets in. Lincoln squeezes harder, and her lips smoosh together in a way that would be comical under other circumstances. She tries to speak, to plead, but it comes out as a gurgle.

Lincoln goes faster, his eyes crossing as his orgasm approaches. He bows his heads, slides deep into her one last time, then cums with a moan and a body-wide shudder. Lola's eyes roll back into her head and the fight drains from her like blood from a head wound. Lincoln releases her neck, and she gasps for air, her fingers flying to the ugly purple bruise ringing her throat like a royal stole. Lincoln stares down at her with a grimace of hatred, then pulls out in a gush of red swirled white. He gets up, bends over, and snatches his underwear from the floor.

Trembling, Lola rolls onto her side, curls up, and begins to sob hysterically, her little body shaking violently. Lincoln puts on his underwear, squats, and rtretives hers, which he throws disgustedly at her head: They land on her face, hiding her shame - she makes no attempt to move them.

"For the lips of an adulteress drip honey," Lincoln says, "and smoother than oil is her speech; But in the end she is bitter as wormwood, Sharp as a two-edged sword. Her feet go down to death, Her steps take hold of Sheol." He goes over, yanks the panties off, and grabs a handful of Lola's hair. She sobs in terror. "You're a harlot, Lola, a temptress who led me to sin. I'M GOING TO HELL BECAUSE OF YOU!" He draws back his hand and she cringes.

"Don't hit me again," she stammers and cries harder, "please don't hit me again, Lincy."

 _SLAP!_

She screams, and Lincoln shoves his finger into her face. "You're a cheap slut and that's all you'll ever be." He lets her go and turns, his face flush with anger and his eyes pooled with hate...and perhaps self-loathing, too. "Now get the fuck out of my room."

LOLA - 6. She's doubled over in the chair and hugging herself tightly. Her hair is messy, her crown askew, and her dress is rumbled. Her eyes are puffy from crying and her mascara has run, lending her the appearance of a racoon. "I really don't want to do this," she says, her voice low and forceless.

"I know," the fat woman says offscreen, her voice firm, "but if you don't talk to us three times a day, you'll be in breach of your contract and we will sue your family. You don't want that to happen, now do you, sweetie?'

The little girl sniffles wetly, blots the tears from her eyes with the heel of her palm, and slowly shakes her head. "No," she says, her voice breaking.

"So...what happened, Lola? Why are you crying?"

She doesn't immediately reply. "I don't wanna talk about it."

The fat woman hums knowingly. "You're also walking funny. And there's a dark stain on your dress. Why?"

Lola looks up into the camera, her eyes filled with pleading. "i-I don't want to talk about it."

"Your brother finally gave you the attention you've been craving, didn't he?" the fat woman asks, her voice dripping with condescension.

Lola's eyes dart to her lap and she hugs herself tighter.

"And you didn't like it."

The little girl blinks rapidly as if against tears.

"You have to be careful what you wish for, Lola." The fat woman's voice is cold, uncaring, and if you listen closely enough, you can hear a smile of evil satisfaction in it.

Bowing her head, Lola begins to sob, her shoulders shaking and her hand covering her eyes. The camera zooms slowly in, lingering on her ashen faced misery, jittering slightly as if in sick excitement.

The scene cuts to the Loud house standing dark and dismal against the orange morning sky; waves of darkness radiates from it like cold from a block of ice, and the lightless windows glimmer like malevolent eyes. A voice intones as the camera cuts to the hall, where the Loud kids stand in line for the bathroom. _Today starts like any other for the family, with one exception: Lola refuses to come out of her room._

Lynn Sr. sitting on the edge of his daughter's bed with his hand on her shoulder; she is wrapped in her pink comforter, only her face showing - her sallow, sunken, tear-streaked face, eyes staring straight ahead. They are dark...haunted...heavy black bags underneath. "What's the matter, sweetie?" Lynn asks softly, the concern in his voice clear and evident.

She shakes her head from side to side but doesn't speak. He looks helplessly at Lana, who stands next to the bed, her face puckered in worry and her big brown eyes watery as if with tears.

LANA - 6. Lana leans forward in the chair, her hands on her knees and her gaze downcast. "Lola's been acting really weird since last night and I'm...I'm kind of worried."

"I thought Lola was a bitch," the fat woman said smugly.

Lana looks up, her eyes widening slightly as if in horror at the memory of calling her sister that word. "W-Well, she's still my sister and I love her." She flicks her eyes down. "And she's not really _that_ big of a bitch. She just gets on my nerves sometimes."

"You're not _happy_ something bad happened to Lola?"

The little girl's head whips up, her face paling. "No! I don't want bad stuff to happen to my siblings, even if they make me mad."

"Umhm," the fat woman says...she sounds unconvinced.

LYNN SR. - 43. He looks stricken and haggard. "I-I don't know what's wrong. Lana came to me this morning and said something was wrong, b-but Lola won't talk. Whatever it is, it-it must really be bothering her. She's not one to mope like this."

 _Lola might not be, but Luan certainly is._

Luan kneels next to her bed with her hands folded in prayer. Her lips move and an almost inaudible whisper falls from her trembling lips. "Please forgive me for having premarital sex with my brother, please forgive me for having premarital sex with my brother." She lifts her head unto Heaven as if seeking supplication. She frowns when she does not find it. Sighing heavily, she crawls into bed and hugs herself.

 _Lynn leaves to run errands again and puts Lori in charge, as Rita is still sleeping it off._

Lori sits on the couch with her arms and legs crossed, her eyes pointed at the TV screen but looking as though they are not seeing. "You have a lot on your mind, huh, Lori?" the cameraman asks. Lori glances at him, then nods.

"Yeah," she admits.

"A boy?" he asks.

Lori hesitates, then nods again. "Yeah."

"Does he know how you feel?"

Lori shakes her head. "No. I-I haven't told him. I'm still kind of…" she shrugged helplessly. "Weird, I guess."

Fabric rustles as the cameraman shifts from one foot to the other. "Why don't you? I'm sure L- he will feel the same way."

Lori sighs, seeming oblivious to the fact that he almost said her brother's name. "It's not as easy as that, it's…" she trails off and flattens her lips, perhaps thinking over what the fat woman said to her yesterday about listening to her heart and body to understand God's will for her. She glances up at the camera, then away. After a moment of visible indecision, she gets to her feet, goes around the end of the couch, and climbs the stairs. Hidden camera footage shows her hesitating at the top and looking longingly at Lincoln's closed door. She goes to it and knocks lightly, tentatively. Lincoln calls out, and she opens it just enough to stick her head in. "Hey," she says.

"Hey," comes his reply.

"I, uh...I need to talk to you. In my room."

Seconds later, she withdraws and Lincoln comes out, a knowing glint in his icy eyes. Lori leads him to her room and tosses a glance over her shoulder. He smiles, and beginning to relax, she smiles too. They go in, and a moment later, Leni comes out, her eyes closed and her hands up in front of her and bent, giving her the appearance of a puppy begging for a treat. She walks into the wall with a breathless _oof_ , then changes courses and heads down the hall, rubbing her forehead, her brow knitted heavily. "Rude," she says to herself and disappears down the stairs.

The scene cuts to Rita lying in bed, her arm jutting over the edge and loud snores rising from her nose. The fat woman goes over, bends, and lays her hand on the sleeping woman's shoulder. "Rita?" she asks softly.

Rita snorts and stirs but does not wake. The woman shakes. "Rita?" more insistent. Rita groans and mutters something unintelligible. "Rita, honey, wake up."

"What?" Rita asks thickly. "What is it?"

The woman looks over her shoulder at the camera and flashes a toothy, predator's smile. She turns back to Rita. "Lynn just called. He needs you to ask Lori to clean the basement like she promised."

"Huh? Rita asks. She pushes herself up and stares blearly into the woman's face, her head swaying back and forth and her eyes open to narrow, ruemy slits. Before the woman can reply, Rita seems to nod. "Okay." She swings her legs over the side and shoves her feet into her slippers, then goes to get up but drops back onto her butt. "I-I had another headache last night," she explains as she stands, her arms going out for balance. "It was a doozy."

"You poor thing," the woman says with obvious sarcasm; in her state, Rita misses it entirely. She grabs her robe, which is draped over the back of a chair, and puts it on over her pajamas, tying the waist belt as she shuffles into the hall. The woman follows, throwing a slimy smile over her shoulder.

Rita scratches her head as she approaches Lori's door, her shaking fingers tangling in her matted hair. She lays her hand on the knob, turns it, and pokes her head in. "Lori, I…" her words trail off and her body tenses. "OH MY GOD, NOT AGAIN!"

The woman looks over her shoulder and smiles widely, her hands fisting in in victory.

"YOU WERE HAVING ORAL SEX WITH YOUR BROTHER, YOU TRAMP!"

The woman mimes throwing up, her hand flying to her corpulent stomach. "These people are so gross," she whispers, "how could you have sex with your own brother or sister?" She slowly shakes her head as if the idea boggles her mind.

Rita gestures widely down the hall. "Put that disgusting thing back in your pants and go to your room! Lori - God, I can't believe this! I-I-I…" suddenly she was crying, her hands covering her face. "I can't believe this."

In the living room, Lynn Sr. trembles with red-faced rage. He has just told his children that they are going to hell; the twins are crying, Lola much harder than Lana, and Lucy is smiling wider than ever.

LUCY - 8. "I like the idea of going to hell," she says and scratches her crotch, "I'm a sinner and I deserve to be whipped by demons, and to be bitten, and to be choked, and to be violated." She actually giggles at the thought of being raped by demonic entities. She scratches her crotch again and ducks her head to hide her blush. "I hope they dip me in hot oil...slowly...starting with the tips of my toes."

Scratch.

"Are you alright, Lucy?" the fat woman asks.

Lucy nods. "Yeah. I think I'm just developing an infection, that's all."

No one immediately speaks. "From what you did with the puppy brains last night?"

"Probably," Lucy deadpans.

In the living room, Lynn scans the kids before him with a hard glower, his hands on his hips and his jaw clenched so hard that a throbbing vein stands out on the side of his neck. His gaze settles on Lincoln, who stares down at his lap, thoroughly castigated. "You," Lynn spits, injecting so much venom into the word that one can practically taste the poison. "You... _pervert_." He's looming over the boy now, his hands balled into fists and his shoulders rising and falling with each angry breath. "Your own flesh and blood...like a common _hillbilly_."

"I-I'm sorry, Dad," he stammers, "I-"

"Did you at least use protection?" Lynn cuts him off.

The boy doesn't respond.

Lynn's eyes widen and the vein pulses faster. "You didn't, did you?"

Lincoln sniffs.

"Did you pull out? Tell me you pulled out."

Lincoln says nothing.

" _TELL ME YOU DIDN'T FINISH IN YOUR SISTERS!"_

"I did but -"

Letting loose a wordless cry of fury, Lynn grabs the front of Lincoln's shirt in both hands and drags him off the couch. The boy's face goes as white as his hair and he screams as his father flings him aside like a sack of dirty laundry. Lynn Jr. jumps and Lana buries her face in her hands while Leni hugs herself like a little girl and Lucy smiles through her teeth. Lori shoots to her feet. "Stop!"

WIthout missing a beat, Lynn brings his hand up and across her face, knocking her back onto the couch. "YOU FUCKING HARLOT!" He spins and stalks over to Lincoln, who is in the middle of the floor on his hands and knees; he grabs him by the back of his shirt, pulls him to his feet, and shoves him toward the stairs. "Go to your room. _NOW!"_

Shaking like a frightened dog, Lincoln scurries up the stairs. Lynn starts to go after, but stops at Rita. She's drinking deeply from a bottle of vodka, her hand trembling and her eyes filled with tears. Lynn's face crinkles in disgust, and he slaps it away; it flies across the room and lands on the floor with a thud. Rita is frozen, her hand cupping thin air. "Fucking drunk," Lynn grumbles and follows his son, stripping his belt off as he goes.

Hidden camera footage shows Lincoln facing away from his father, his face clinched in expectation. Lynn lifts the belt over his head, a look of demonic rage on his face, then lashes it against the boy's back. Lincoln cries out and goes to his hands and knees. Lynn brings the belt up again, then down with a loud, meaty crack; Lincoln wails in agony and begins to cry.

 _CRACK!_

"Stop!" he howls in a breaking, high-pitched falsetto. "Stop, it hurts! Please stop!"

 _CRACK!_

The boy falls to his stomach and Lynn whips the belt back then forward again, and again, and again.

In the living room, Rita scoops the bottle up off the floor and carries it into the kitchen. Leni cradles a weeping Lori in her arms. Lynn comes down the stairs and goes over to the couch; when his daughters see him, they all cringe. He grabs Luan by the arm, yanks her up, and pushes her away. "All of you go to your rooms," he says tightly.

RITA - 41. She sits in the chair guzzling from a bottle, her robe rumpled and her hair sticking out. One gets the sense that the mask has slipped fully off - the cat is out of the bag and there's no sense in pretending that it isn't.

When the bottle is empty, she swipes the back of her hand across her lips and tosses it aside. She looks at the camera and starts to cry, pressing her hand to her temple and hitching, fat tears sliding down her cheeks like raindrops. "My kids fornicate with each other," she said, "my husband cheats on me...and I can't take it...I just can't take it."

In the living room, Rita sits on the couch with her arms crossed. Lynn Sr. storms in, his arms pumping wildly and a look of murderous rage on his face. "Alright!" he screams, and Rita jumps. "I want you people out of my home!" He points to the camera and then to the door. "Out!"

"Mr. Loud…" someone says, and Lynn springs at the camera, his face hard and dark. A scream can be heard, and the camera falls to the floor, landing sideways, its POV askew. Rita's standing now, looking helplessly on as Lynn screams at a man in a black T-shirt. "Get the fuck out of my house! I want all of you gone in five fucking minutes or so help me God I'll get my fucking gun and blow all of you away.!"

Another camera, Rita standing at the kitchen counter and unscrewing the lid from a fresh bottle of vodka. Lynn's screaming voice can be heard from the next room.

The fat woman appears on screen. "How does it feel to see your family disintegrating in front of your very eyes?" she asks.

"I don't see my family disintegrating," she says tightly.

The fat woman snorts. "Are you really _that_ blinded by your alcoholism? Your son's a rapist, your husband's an adulterer, and your daughters are sluts, you -"

Like a bolt of lightning, Rita spins and throws a deadly punch, her fist crashing into the woman's nose: It bursts like an overripe tomato and she stumbles back with a pained gasp. "GET OUT OF MY HOUSE!"

The scene freezes on Rita's face, her voice echoing.

On the soundstage, Flagg1991 stands with his hands clasped in front of him, looking sexy and buff as hell. "Since our initial broadcast, Rita Loud filed for divorce from her husband, completed an alcohol rehab program, and regained custody of all her children except for Lucy and Lincoln. Lucy was deemed a danger to herself and others and is currently in a group home. Lincoln was remanded to the juvenile justice system after Lola confided in a social worker that he abused her. He is being held at the Salem Industrial Home in Chippewa Falls, Michigan, and will be released on his eighteenth birthday.

The scene cuts to Lincoln wearing an orange jumpsuit and sitting against a backdrop of cinderblock. He smiles winningly (but nowhere near as winningly as Flagg1991). "I was a sinner," he says with a nod of admission, "I did things I am not proud of... I was a _person_ I am not proud of. I was consumed with deviant lust and hated myself for it. I manipulated my sisters into having sex with me, and afterwards, when I was thinking clearly again, I tried to transfer the blame onto them so that _I_ could have a clear conscious. Needless to say, it didn't work and I wound up hating myself even more, especially after what I did to poor Lola."

He shifts, and a flash of his hands can be seen: They are cuffed in his lap.

"Being here, at Salem, has really helped me to focus on being a better me. I am deeply, deeply sorry -" here he puts his hands over his heart "- for my past actions. I'm different now. I found Jesus, for real this time, and I vow to never hurt another woman for as long as I live."

His voice drips with insincerity.

Flagg1991's smile is as bright as the midday sun. "And there you have it. I'm Flagg1991 for _A Present Event_. Thank you, and goodnight."


End file.
